When did I stop wearing high heels? As a teenager, wearing heels made me stand out, or rather, stand above the rest. It gave me a sense of confidence that an outfit not paired with a heel could do. The novelty of growing up and having my own pair of heels, that I could only wear on weekends when I went out and pretended I was an adult, was the highlight of my entire existence.
But then as I got older my need to stand out slowly diminished from the literal sense to something else. I needed to stand out for what I stood for. So I ditched the club-wrecked 3-inches and chose to wear something a little more comfortable that would get me to where I wanted to go faster.
I have since become a obsessed with flatforms (And I can afford to buy my own now) and a good pair of boots are the only other height-lifters I wear. There is no bypassing how much the normcore trend has influenced retailers and consumers alike, that now you are able to wear a good-looking pair of flats that actually complement an outfit in far more ways that any heel would do (Thanks for that, Phoebe Philo!)
However if there was a pair of heels to turn me, it would probably be the most unexpected pair of pom-pom adorning PVC sandals that you’ve never seen me in. Why? Because I feel like this shoe chose me and not the other way around.
Right now you might be thinking, ‘Woah Ashleigh, that’s quite a big step you’re taking.” Considering heels havent been part of my wardrobe attire for a long while, i’d say it’s more like a leap! Why didn’t I just pick a pair of mules that aid in my height transition cautiously? I don’t want to fall over every time I stand up. Or choose something that I could literally wear with absolutely anything? – Actually I think I’m in love with those too. But the thing is – tell me you’ve never experienced something like this before – I have a strange attraction to all everything Charlotte Olympia creates. It’s as if my subconscious already knows what label they are before I do.
I suppose this choice in shoe also has something to do with the kind of outfit that I would ultimately plan around it: a ubiquitously ill-fitting pair of mom jeans and a white t-shirt that’ll give the shoes all the glory they deserve. And maybe because sometimes all I want is something soft and reassuring to counter that ‘I-Haven’t-Yet-Mastered-How-To-Walk-In-These’ strut.
Oh, and if I’m really going to go all out, I’d have to get the matching clutch too. I’d imagine myself looking similar to relaxed on the outside, not relaxed on the inside version of a circus act, in the below ensemble, walking a tight rope, trying to stay vertical and cool and walk and talk at the same time. Ta-Da!